The Lighter Side of War - CHAPTER 20B: D - DAY

The Lighter Side of War - CHAPTER 20b: D - DAY! D - DAY! - 6th June 1944

By Actiondesk Sheffield

People in story: Reg Reid, Lieutenant Baker, Wheeler, Rice' Cheeseborough, Billy Grills, Johnny O'Toole
Location of story: Lymington, Solent, Bayeux
Unit name: `A' Platoon, 133 Company
Background to story: Army

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk – Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Reg Reid and has been added to the site with the authors permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
The Lighter Side of War
By
Don Alexander
CHAPTER 20b: D - DAY! D - DAY! - 6th June 1944
On the 5th June 1944 US General Eisenhower (Ike) gave the go ahead for the long awaited Anglo-American cross-Channel invasion. British General Montgomery, the first man to lead an army to victory against the Germans (The great turning point of the war at El Alamein) was rewarded by overall operational command of all the land forces - including, of course our men in 133 Company. Lieutenant Baker read out to `A' Platoon the personal letter from the C-in-C starting "The time has come to deal the enemy a terrific blow in Western Europe" and ending "Good luck to each of you. And good hunting on the mainland of Europe. " B.L. Montgomery. General C-in-C 21" Army Group. Wheeler irreverently shouted "TALLYHO' CHAPS!"
D-Day! D-Day! Cry havoc and unleash the dogs of war! In the early morning of 6th June 1944 more than 4,000 landing craft put down the assault troops of six infantry divisions with artillery and tanks on five separate beachheads in Normandy: three British and Canadian in the East, two American in the West.
There had been two overnight airborne landings at the boundaries of the invasion beaches, one American, one British. The British Sixth Airborne had captured Pegasus Bridge over the canal by the river Orne in the east.
Massive air and naval bombardment supported the troops, but even so, the Germans were deceived by British Intelligence into thinking the actual invasion was a diversion - but what a diversion! The real thing was still expected further up the Channel coast.
Rommel's advice, that any attacking force should be immediately pushed back into the sea using the speed of the Panzer divisions, wasn't taken. There were fifty-nine German divisions at the time in France, including ten of the fearsome Panzers, each of which had 10,000 men and 200 tanks, plus 14 of the Tiger tanks and assorted ammunition and fuel trucks. The Tigers with their 88mm guns and ability to hit targets from long range had proved their worth on the vast plains of the Soviet Union. Thanks to skilled British deception they weren't unleashed immediately in Normandy.
Flying bombs and rockets were due to be aimed at England but British Intelligence, including the boffins at Bletchley Park, had followed these developments since 1943, and the RAF bombed the Peenemunde missile launching sites and producing factories, delaying the launch of these frightening weapons until after the invasion.
Half the German Army was tied up on the Eastern Front against the Russians. General Alexander had tied up 25 German Divisions in Italy and similar numbers were engaged in both Yugoslavia and Norway.
Despite all these commitments the Wehrmacht with its 59 Divisions in France remained a very powerful force, and even though Germany no longer had superiority in the air and at sea, the invasion remained a huge risk. Three thousand five hundred British and Canadian troops got killed on D-Day alone. In the three months from D-Day to the end of August 1944, the British and Canadian losses were 16,000 dead, 60,000 wounded and 10,000 missing. The Americans had similar casualties and a massive number of Germans were killed: 240,000 men.
Infantry made up only 14% of the allied troop numbers but 90% of the casualties. Reginald William Reid's advice to his son back in June 1938 had been sound.
Troops, artillery, tanks, lorries were shipped over day after day, week after week, month after month.
At dawn on D-Day plus 6, 12th June 1944, 133 Company drove in convoy from Lymington down to an embarkation point on the Solent. They joined long queues of vehicles waiting patiently, "like mechanised cattle heading for a mechanised slaughter house ", was one lad's discouraging comment. Not an `A' Platoon lad, needless to say. This platoon, to a man, expected to survive. Butch drove a Workshops' officer's Austin pick-up. Why he was driving it and not the officer's batman he can't recall. He was with `A' Platoon, but not of them any more. He clutched a letter from his mother - she'd now got the job at the Queen's Hotel, Leeds. Eventually their turn came: a landing craft dropped its ramp and Butch was first to drive on, with two other Austin pick-ups following. They drove on to a platform that raised them side by side, then the third to the top deck. Troops shared the deck with them taking in the sea air! `A' Platoon's lorries then drove on to the bottom deck, the ramp was lifted and the craft reversed into the sea. It only went two hundred yards - or whatever that is in nautical lingo - when it stopped to allow two big steel and wood `Mulberry Harbour' raft-like sections to be towed behind them.
Huge sections of this artificial harbour were towed by assorted vessels on day six and onwards. What a plan, what an example of British ingenuity this harbour was. Near, if not absolute, control of the air and sea was essential; otherwise the vessels would have been sitting ducks for U-Boats and the Luftwaffe.
All the troops were issued with a twenty-four hour, 4,000 calories, ration pack in a mess tin plus a solid fuel portable stove. The mess tin contained:
Biscuits - 10
Oatmeal - 2 blocks
Salt - 1 block
Tea/Sugar/Milk - 3 blocks (ingredients combined)
Extract of meat cubes - 1 block
Slabs of chocolate with raisins - Two
Slabs of chocolate - One
Boiled sweets - Six
Chewing gum - 2
Plus latrine paper!
After two days they would be on "compo" rations and tinned foods. "Compo" rations essentially were biscuits, corned beef and tea/sugar/milk cubes. After a week or so of this it would be "come back, `Rice' Cheeseborough, all is forgiven. "
Back to `A' Platoon's LDV. This was defended somewhat sparsely by two bren guns aft, two forward, manned by Royal Navy personnel.
Before they had set sail Lieutenant Baker had put Butch on guard halfway down a staircase leading to the lower deck by a porthole, 303 rifle at the ready.
The entire platoon was put on a high state of readiness with the lieutenant striding the deck, prepared to repulse any Nazis.
Butch watched the sea rise as the vessel ploughed into the waves, into the `deep end' as he called it, thinking again, oddly enough, of Hillsborough baths - and that was deep enough. The sea rose above the porthole - good job it wasn't open. He aimed his rifle in desultory fashion at the grey water with its occasional marine life floating past.
After a while he thought `sod this for a lark' and went on deck. "Reid, why have you deserted your post?"
Lieutenant Baker's shrill voice rose above the sound of the sea and the pick up trucks straining at their leashes by the rolling motion.
"To be on guard down there, sir, I'd need a torpedo. It's six foot under the waves ".
Nearing the French coast the slow moving craft were attacked by Messerschmidts which strafed the boats, missing 133's, but snapping the steel cable attached to one of the Mulberry sections. The LDV was slewed sideways and they were delayed while the other section was detached and manoeuvred to its place in the artificial harbour. The sections were like big rafts wide enough to take a lorry and each powered by its own outboard motor.
The plan was for LDV to land at high tide, offload its troops and vehicles inside half an hour, so although the tide would then be on the turn the LDV would be empty, so lighter, higher in the water and would be able to reverse out to sea, still afloat. Not beached by the receding tide.
On reaching the beach the tide was already on the turn, the LDV stopped short, its ramp was lowered and troops and the lorries disembarked. The lift then took two pick-ups down - one headed down the ramp and disappeared under the water into the deep ruts made by the lorries. The driver managed to swim and struggle to the beach, but the ship's captain couldn't afford any more delay so he ordered the ramp to be lifted and the bows closed.
The LDV then returned as fast as it could to England with Butch and the other pick-up driver, an officer's batman from `C' Platoon, and their two vehicles still on board. All the troops had a numbered brass tally for handing to a corporal tallyman on the beach. Butch looked ruefully at his tally - number 13.
`A' Platoon knew that he was still alive and on his way back to England - Lucky Butch Reid does it again - but the tallyman listed on his report back to England `No. 13. T/68784 Pt. R. W. Reid - missing believed drowned'.
The journey back was uneventful but in truth Butch can't recall where they landed in England, only that they were directed to the back of a very long queue of vehicles waiting for the next day's sailings. In fact two days passed before they drew up in front of a spanking new LDV on the seashore - two days in which they had spent 48 uncomfortable hours in their pick-ups. Two days of mess tin rations - edging forward as if in a nightmare traffic jam with `toilet stops' in the woods by the road. Ten minutes of drama when Butch found a phone box, rang his mother at the Queen's Hotel, Leeds, who broke down at her son's voice. She had just received a telegram saying he was missing believed dead. He was relieved he had got through to her and joked to the `C' Platoon batman that she was upset because she'd got his co-op life insurance money lined up!
Two nights of fitful sleep in their cabs, then the dawn encounter with the spanking new LDV, bows open, ramp down to receive them.
It was D-Day plus 8, the 14th June 1944, and the sailors to welcome them aboard this time were Yanks, and a nice welcome too: thick pork, beef, chicken or cheese sandwiches, choice of mugs of hot chocolate, milk, coffee, even tea, cold orange, cola. It made a change from R.N. corned beef and hard tack biscuits washed down by a mug of tea. Still, there was a war on! The Yanks also gave them fags and chewing gum. Butch buttoned these last in a pocket - it might come in handy to attract girls who commonly asked "Got any gum, chum?"
The defence of the vessel was more reassuring than the British LDV's four bren guns.
The Yanks had eight Oerlikon heavy machine guns, four down each side, and when Messerschmidts dived down at them the Oerlikons let off a barrage of shells, forming an umbrella over our men.
They were a motley lot on board - all British, RASC, Engineers with their motto `Ubique' (everywhere) with heavy lorries and even lorry-mounted cranes, Royal Signals, RAMC with their lorries sporting big red crosses on a white background. These medics had missed boarding a designated ambulance ship.
The sea was calm; the faint splash of the waves above the sound of the engine was the only sound. Even the gulls were quiet. The men were quiet, apprehension hung in the air, no cheerful `sod it all' atmosphere of `A' Platoon's crossing and the solemnity transferred itself to `C' platoon's batman and Butch as they drove off the craft. Heavy lorries had gone before them but there were no deep water filled grooves for the pick up to tumble into this time.
The Yanks wished them well and an MP corporal took their tallies. There was a bit of delay taking Butch's details and in the meantime a Despatch Rider from 133 roared off leading the Batman back to the unit.
"The D.R. will come back for you Private Reid ". The MP had a reassuring Rotherham accent. "The war can't be won without you lad".
Butch followed in the direction they'd gone. He couldn't believe it. They were now on French soil: remember to call any Froggies you meet `Monsieur' and not just `Oi you' - and remember to drive on the right!
Summer smells in the air, flashes in the sky followed by faint sound of shells in the distance. He felt elated until he came to a fork in the road - which one to take? One direction was to Bayeux the other was unmarked. He pulled over to the side of the road and sniffed the air again like a dog. It smelt foreign, different again from the hot air of North Africa, new vegetation, new life, sound of cicadas - then sudden sound of British or German artillery fire rumbled like thunder, a bit too close for comfort, as they did their best to kill each other.
He decided to have a nap for a while until the D.R. came. "Why can't those gunners be more civilised and keep quiet and let me get some kip"? As well as Yankee fags and chewing gum he had a lucky Queen Victoria `honolulu' penny in his pocket. He decided he would toss this when he woke up to determine which road to take if the D.R. didn't turn up... Such is how great decisions in the war are made. His nap then took him into the night and a cold dawn, and loud shots. He thought the Germans were shooting at him but it was D.R. Billy Grills' motorbike backfiring. Billy led him to a string of 133 vehicles near Bayeux. Butch was clapped out but revived when Johnny O'Toole showed him the Workshops' lorry Butch was to share with first class mechanic Ritchie. What a magnificent beast this was - a 15 tonner and fitted with a lathe, drill, grinder and electric welder with power from a diesel generator. It had no glass windscreen, which would shatter over very rough ground but it had steel tracks, like tank tracks, which could be fitted over its twin wheels to help it over such ground.
Johnny was less interested in this technological masterpiece - he was looking intently towards the sea in the distance.
Butch said to him "Can you hear that dog whining?" "That's not a dog - it's the sound of Naval shells, look!"
An offshore British battleship lit up the dull skies with flashes as its big guns fired broadsides, and shells as big as dustbins hurtled overhead, angled into the sky. They were aimed miles inland at the German positions. O'Toole from the 'Pool had a natural interest in the sea but he and landlubber Butch could only watch in awe as the battleship's captain ordered the broadsides to be fired just as the ship tilted on the waves...
"If he gets it wrong the shells would be angled straight at us” was Johnny's final admiring comment.